


Hold me tight (don't let me go)

by Helpneedmorefanfics



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sorta unhealthy coping mechanisms, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:20:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27209524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helpneedmorefanfics/pseuds/Helpneedmorefanfics
Summary: Optimus wakes up and deals with the aftermath.
Relationships: Megatron/Optimus Prime
Comments: 19
Kudos: 99





	Hold me tight (don't let me go)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after binge reading suzikublu's fics and was buzzing on the high of the realization that language is a construct and if any of you know of any fics that describe feelings as colors or smells or descriptions of places and objects PLEASE send them my way I'm obsessed with them.

The voices grated against his already mangled processor and Optimus stumbled away as swiftly as he could, turning his finial sensitivity as low as he could make it. The whispers and hushed voices sounded exactly the same as the hiss of two sparks when they rubbed against each other, of a million sparks rubbing against each other, all hissing and twirling and bleating out short snatches of conversation from when they were inside a living frame, never quiet and he couldn't bear it, he had to leave, he had to get away, he had to-

Optimus was suddenly jerked out of the phantom memories, out of the weird state where everything felt underwater, by a sharp tug on his arm. He pivoted sharply towards- towards Ratchet, right- frag he’d forgotten the mech’s _name-_ and asked hurriedly, “Yes?”

Ratchet looked concerned, probably with good reason, considering Optimus had just gotten up from where he’d taken a shot that would have reduced Cybertron to a smoldering hunk of scrap, and walked away. Optimus knew this, knew that all the mechs and femmes around him were probably worried as well, he knew he should probably offer them some reassurances, but he- he just- he couldn't-

He couldn’t bring himself to _care_.

“Is everything alright?” Ratchet said softly, in the voice he used for volatile patients and Optimus wanted to rip his arm away and drive away as fast as he could.

He forced the urge down with every part of willpower he had left, and tried to make his voice seem normal, “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. I have to go.”

“Optimus!” “Wait!” He stopped suddenly as Rodimus and Bumblebee ran in front of him, and struggled to keep his irritation down. They did _not_ deserve his ire. 

Rodimus approached, eyes more searching than Optimus would have liked, “What’s wrong?”

Optimus looked away, optics unable to rest on one thing for more than ten klicks, and vented deeply. Sighed, “Nothing is wrong. I just need a defrag and I'll be fine.” He bent down and knocked his helm against theirs in the same way he used to do when they were sparklings, knowing it’d calm them down. He was right- both their doorwings drooped as the tension left their frames and he used the moment to slip past.

“Optimus, listen-” Jazz grabbed his arm, but Optimus knew Jazz, knew he would not take it to heart, and moved away and transformed, driving away from all the questions and optics and whispers.

The next thing that he registered was the slide of the habcard through the door sounding out loudly in the empty hallway of his apartment building. Optimus blinked and looked around at where he was, then shook his helm and walked through the open door.

He cringed back immediately at the lights- _the light, so much light, brightness from all around, multichrome and blinding, light of a million sparks,, visible even when he offlined his optics, inescapable until he was thrown back out._

Optimus gasped raggedly, and scrabbled for the switch. His servo slammed down on it after a few moments and the lights shut off. It wasn’t dark- the light of Cybertron's binary suns was shining directly through the windowsill- but he could deal with it. 

Panting on the floor where he’d ended up, Optimus shuddered once, then got onto unsteady pedes to stumble to the berthroom and collapsed onto the mercury berth. 

Optimus turned on his side, staring listlessly at the wall. Every few minutes or so, he'd shift in the blankets and curiously listen to the rustling of the fabric in the quiet apartment. 

His optics were focused on a quaint square patterned vase that held the crystal flowers he and Megatron had surprised each other with on their first date, but he wasn't really registering it completely. (A slight lie- the smallest of smiles had quirked his lips when he first glanced at it, and then the joy was immediately drowned out by numbness again.) 

Music? That could help, maybe? Slowly, processor crawling through basic tasks and usual codings like that one insect he'd helped out of tar back on some planet in the Ifbel quadrant, he reached for the first music recording he could find that seemed tolerable at the moment. 

Some obscure gentle ambience melody started playing, and Optimus, feeling slightly childish about it, but unable to care, cuddled up to a pillow and stared blankly at the wall.

He stared at the vase again, letting the music wash over him, repetitive and calming, and let his frame go lax. He melted into the berth, limbs heavy like he'd never be able to move from this position again, tension that had occupied his processor ever since he woke up ebbing away and memories and stray thoughts rushing in to take their place. 

The blast. It wasn't much of a conscious decision to hurl himself in front of it, as much it was a necessity. A bunch of ragabond criminals had banded together, somehow managing to acquire an ancient interplanetary weapon, capable of razing Cybertron to the ground. Optimus wasn't sure what their intention had been, wasn't listening when they were making their gleeful speech, but he knew that they were incompetent enough that the others would have taken them down by now. 

He rubbed at his chassis, where the shot had hit him and been absorbed, so that the part of it that went straight clean through was a measly, weak version of the original. It had hurt tremendously for the brief astrosecond he was alive, to have it rip through his internals and burn out half of the energon in his lines, and he had been still consumed by the fear that he wouldn't be able to stop it in time, that he wouldn't be enough, even as he fell to the ground with his spark winking out. 

(He supposed it wasn't the worst death he'd ever had. It could have gone through the helm like it had the one time, leaving nothing but gruesome splatters and a mangled faceplate, and leaving Optimus to wake up to Prowl purging next to him and everyone sobbing like they didn't know he'd always come back. It could have been slightly less fatal, leaving him to writhe in agony for minutes until his frame succumbed, which was horrible because the people around him were always so devastated and horrified and tried to keep him alive the best they could, usually only prolonging his pain for a few minutes more. Or worse, someone he trusted and loved could have been the one to pull the trigger, like that nice shopkeeper he visited everyday to buy some energon treats, who'd pulled a gun on him one day, over a bribe by a Senator, claiming it was for his sparklings with tears streaming down his face.)

(Optimus wondered what it said about him, that he had a rank system for his own deaths.) 

This one was relatively painless, considering. From what he could tell in the hazy memory file, he'd been dead for all of two minutes, already patched up by Ratchet when he regained consciousness, and had staggered to his pedes and walked away. 

Optimus hadn't been able to gauge the reactions of everyone else in the area when he’d woken up, didn’t even know who all were present at the time because at least half of the memories of those last few minutes were missing, like always. (He wasn’t able to feel anything apart from grateful about it- his frame hurt way too much to have not been already grievously injured before he took the blast) But a quick scan of the media channels revealed that no footage of him stumbling away disoriented, or even his quiet dash back home on the air, so it must have just been those close to him.

He… wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

_Ugh, stop thinking,_ Optimus moaned to himself, pressing his servos into his optics until he saw stars. He pulled them back and observed the black-pink-green afterimages against the berth canopy idly, ambiance slowly lulling him to recharge and a much needed defrag.

Then the music changed.

Optimus had no idea when he’d added this song to his playlist, probably someone had put it in on Earth while driving (he often used to catch naps during) but whatever it was, it was _horrible._ The whine of a loud electric guitar was a jarring difference from the soothing melody, and Optimus jerked awake and up at the horrendous noise and shut it off frantically.

_Too loud, too loud, too loud._ The echoes of it were still buzzing in his oversensitive finials that he’d turned up to hear the previous music better, and he stumbled out of berth and into the washracks, noting absently that it was freezing cold in the apartment, now that night had fallen. 

Optimus winced at the noise as he clumsily dropped a bottle of something, and contemplated all the bad things that could happen if he shut off his finials completely, before his pede hit the bottle and sent it rolling, and his processor made the decision for him immediately.

He shuddered again once- it really was cold, weird, the heater should have handled it- before opening the solvent tap and hunkering down next to the tub and waiting for it to fill up. The floor was freezing too ( _Just like that in between limbo space he always ended up in, surrounded by sparks on all sides, waiting until the one of the brightest ones came through and pushed him back into the realm of the living_ ) but he could manage it; he’d managed worse things through the war, after all, so he let his helm rest upon his knees and waited. 

Next thing he knew, he was being shaken wildly and jerked out of the half recharge again, HUD complaining. He looked up to see Megatron standing above him, face twisted in concern and worry. On seeing Optimus look up, his mouth moved with no sound and Optimus frowned, confused, before he remembered.

He reached up to turn his finials on and felt slightly guilty as understanding and exasperation flashed across the other mech’s face. Megatron turned back to him, “Why didn’t you turn off the tap, idiot?”

Optimus blinked once, then stiffened in horror, looking around at the solvent that had spilled over the side of the tub well long ago. The cold liquid had reached a good height off the floor, and he could see blue stains on the floor outside too; Primus, it must have been running for so long. "Oh," Was all that came out, feeling crushed with a disproportionate amount of guilt at the amount of solvent that was wasted because of his stupidity. 

"Oh?" Megatron repeated, irritated. He reached out and yanked Optimus off the floor, bolts and wires creaking in the latter's frame, "What do you mean, 'oh'? And why was the heater off, for frag's sake? This place is freezing!"

"I… I'm sorry." Optimus whispered miserably, not bothering to tear his optics away from where Megatron's servos were wrapped around his arms, on the verge of denting. His processor quietly suggested that he must have switched it off when he had been scrabbling for the switches earlier.

The other mech clicked his glossa irritably and flicked a tap open on the side wall. Steam rose from the solvent in a hiss, and Optimus was gently picked up and placed in the oh-so- _wonderfully_ hot tub before he even realized what had happened. 

He gasped, tires rolling and engines rumbling in bliss, sinking into the sheer heaven of the bath after being cold so long; he could see the fractal patterns of ice crystals of the solvent that had formed on him- he hadn't realized his frame was that uncomfortable until it was gone. 

Above him, Megatron grumbled, "I don't care about the mess or the cold, you glitched bastard, I care about _you_. You're frozen half to death, you clearly need to fuel and you almost definitely need to defrag for at least three solar cycles. Are you that eager to go back to the Allspark already?"

The sharpness of the end made Optimus flinch back before he could stop it and Megatron paused in his rummaging around in the side shelves to look at him. Optimus didn't meet his optics, already knowing what his partner had deduced, grabbing the scrub and muttering, "I don't wanna talk about it."

"Optimus-"

"Please leave."

Megatron stayed there for a klick more and Optimus watched his reflection in the solvent when he nodded, "I'll go clean up."

The door barely shut before coolant sprang to Optimus' optics and he dropped the scrub below the surface of the liquid with how badly he was shaking. 

He sobbed as quietly as he could for a bit. He didn’t know why he was crying, but it felt good to let some of it out, although he didn’t know exactly how much choice he had in the matter. His vents hitched when the door opened again, and he wiped the coolant off his cheeks in one stroke- he did _not_ want Megatron to see him crying. His partner walked in quietly, holding energon cubes in both servos and Optimus tried not to flinch or snap at the pity he could see in those optics. 

Megatron stole the scrub out of his servo and pushed the cube into it instead, murmuring, "Fuel." Optimus did, sips turning into greedy gulps when his parched systems recognized what was trickling in. He hadn't realized- again- that he'd been on emergency fuel since he'd woken up, but he supposed it made sense. 

He finished it faster than he ever had and had barely begun to form the thought that he needed another before it was shoved into his hands. Optimus looked over in surprise and a painful ache in his chest that he thought must be love, but Megatron wasn't even looking at him, focused on getting the grit out of his seams and buffing out dents and scrapes. 

Optimus blinked back some more tears, although he supposed he could claim that he'd had a stressful few hours if asked. Claim to who, was the question that came to mind next; Megatron was the only one in the room. And- although he hesitated for a moment about it, then immediately felt bad- Megatron would never put him down when he truly was at rock bottom, truly lacking the hope that he was supposed to be made of. Not anymore. 

(He thought about Renshidd, where Megatron had taken one look at him after a bad plague had ripped through the Autobot army and then toppled a tower instead of using the new weapon he had brought to test out on Optimus, and he thought maybe the other never would have.) 

He sipped the second cube more sedately, but still quick enough so that he could relinquish it and bathe himself instead. But Megatron was already done by the time he was finished and Optimus winced with the guilt of making him have to do it for him; the mech wasn’t really one for such gestures. Unless it was pity, perhaps.

That hurt to consider, even though there was no proof of it, so Optimus stopped thinking about it and stood up, solvent sloshing off his frame. Megatron got up swiftly, that Optimus had forgotten he was capable of doing with his huge frame, and grabbed one of Optimus’ arms to steady him. He opened his mouth to complain that he didn’t need the help, but then registered how much of his weight the other mech was actually taking and shut it with a grimace.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as they passed and startled. His optics were barely lit, although slowly gaining color now that he'd refueled a bit. His frame was graying too, a dull gunmetal gray, not like the shiny silver of the mech next to him. And now that he focused, he could hear his engine working hard in short bursts, trying desperately to heat his frame up, most likely frozen over themselves. 

"Open up," Megatron demanded, holding something in his hand. Optimus balked, then realized the other didn't mean his spark chamber- they hadn't reached that level yet- only his engines. Hyperaware, he complied, the hood popping out and up and Megatron sighed and started the device in his hand up, that he could now see was a heat blower that he hadn't even known they'd owned. 

Within a few klicks, the ice that had formed around his engines, choking them to the point of overheating, melted away into the solvent at their pedes and Optimus was hit by a wave of dizziness. Vaguely, he could hear Megatron saying something sharply, but could barely focus on it, when focusing on staying upright was taking so much of his processor. 

Then he was suddenly being pressed into the berthsheets and panic rushed through him at the thought of recharge, knowing that he would only be plagued by nightmares, like always, of that horrible place. He surged up against the arms holding him down and pleaded, "Wait, stop, please, I don't want to recharge."

He winced at the desperation as soon as he was done saying it, but Megatron only frowned and said, "Optimus, you _have_ to defrag, you're in critical condition! I have half a mind to drag you to the nearest hospital; the only reason I'm not is because I'm concerned you won't survive the journey."

"Please," Optimus said, knowing that the other was right. But he didn't _want_ to; every time he came back from the dead, he always had night terrors, barring the days where immediately after he was able to-

His optics widened. He looked up at Megatron, "Fight me."

Megatron actually jerked away, horror on his features, "What? No!"

"Please," Optimus begged, and thought of broken records. "Please, it'll help, it always has. Please, Megatron-"

"No!" Megatron shouted, moving away, "I _promised you_ that I wouldn't raise a hand against you ever again when we first started this, and I don't intend on breaking it."

"Frag me then," Optimus insisted, wrapping his legs around the other to pull him closer. His panel opened with a 'schlik' and he grinded down on a silver thigh. "Frag me until I forget."

Megatron's face had an indecipherable expression on it, and Optimus had a few moments of fraying apart, feeling like his parts were going to untether and disassemble if he wasn't held together soon. The small part of his processor not convinced that a rough frag would solve his problems was quickly beat down, because Optimus didn't know what he would do if even that didn't bring him out of this… mood. 

But then Megatron's panel folded back too and he thrust in an easy slide and Optimus gasped. Throwing his helm back and screwing his optics shut, he relished in the familiar movement. 

"Ports," Megatron demanded suddenly, stopping. Optimus whined and he snapped out, "Give me your ports, Optimus! I need to- I need to know you're capable of consent." He confessed. 

Optimus sobered slightly and offered his wrists up, blinking as the connection was made. Megatron rushed into him, his consciousness steady and strong, compared to Optimus' buzzing thoughts and emotions and memories flying around wildly. Megatron panicked for a second, sharp orange and rising like the fire of a malfunctioning welder, before dark blue determination wrapped around it and snuffed it out. He had never thought of someone else’s emotions as colors before, but then again, he’d never had someone else in his systems before.

And- Megatron _was_ in his systems; he was _inside his processor,_ Optimus realized with sudden horror. He could see how completely Optimus had fallen apart and could _feel_ the flittering nonsense that his modules had become in his own body, could feel the same restless electricity running through his frame.

Optimus yanked hard, pulling everything away from the connection, ripping access to physical systems away just before Megatron was going to start something up. A white flash of irritation came through, Megatron looming bigger around the single thread of consciousness Optimus left behind and the mech physically pulled away.

Jarred to reality by the movement, Optimus onlined optics he hadn’t realized he had shut, and made a noise of alarm and wrapped his legs around Megatron, pushing down on the spike again. Frantic, he let some of his thought stream back in again, pulsing with the need to be fragged hard and rough until he no longer felt like he was falling to pieces, until his processor was wiped clean of the memories. 

Above him, Megatron’s face twisted, though that could also be from the fact that a stray thought had just noted that everything around him seemed like it was underwater and far away, which was definitely not helping his case at the moment. But just as the buzzing panic got louder and started to slip beyond the confines he had made for it, a white-tinged bargain pinged through: The frag Optimus wanted, in exchange for access to the subsystems that affected his frame. 

Optimus balked, panic simmering down for a second from surprise, then thought about it. He didn't have to think very hard- he knew he could trust Megatron, even if he couldn’t exactly feel the usual outpouring of love that usually came over him every time he glimpsed the other (He hoped Megatron hadn’t heard that last part. His face and thoughts were blank, but the chance that he _had_ heard was enough to send guilt searing through Optimus, ice-cold).

He shook his helm and handed access over in one clean shove. Megatron hummed appreciation and abruptly started fragging Optimus just the way he wanted it, hard and fast. Optimus sighed and went limp, enjoying the sudden quiet of his processor, the steady build of overload, when suddenly there was a stab of bright-hot horror, not his. 

Megatron, he remembered, having already forgotten, and spoke out loud, voice hoarse, “What is it?”

The other’s blinding bright blue horror seeped through him as Megatron showed him the fried remains of his subsystems over the connection. Optimus winced, slowly pushing over data packets of it being diagnosed as a side effect of resurrection, almost every time.

“Optimus, this would have _offlined_ any other mech, how are you still functioning?” Megatron snapped. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

“No!” Optimus shouted, louder than he’d wanted to. “No, they repair automatically, see?” One of them was already at 89% from the 15% it had been a klick ago. “Going to the hospital will be useless.”

Megatron closed his optics and sighed. “You’re not going to budge, are you?” he muttered and started moving his hips again. Optimus moaned, and rolled his own down, falling into the rhythm. Between the waves of pleasure of one overload and another, he absently recognized Megatron fiddling with his subsystems as they mended, manually relaxing his frame. Optimus floated in the pleasure, grudgingly accepting Megtaron’s smugness at it working, the buzzing slowing down.

Caught between the bliss of a third overload, Optimus barely registered Megatron slip past his defences, until he was surrounding Optimus’ consciousness with his own, like a deep purple-magenta heavy blanket. Optimus struggled for a moment then settled back down into the calmness, the reverberations in his processor dying down slowly.

Megatron wavered for a second in hesitation about something and then determinedly hit him with a red-blue flash of emotion, burning through Optimus’ dazed processor. Then he did it again and again, belting him with- with _memories_ , Optimus realized after a moment of disorientation- memories of the two of them, the emotions embedded in them that Optimus hadn't been privy to, drenched in passion and longing that had never shown on Megatron’s face or field. Optimus snorting at a bad insult on the battlefield (embarrassed happiness) Optimus snarking at him as they fought together (excited affection) Optimus arguing over the peace treaty (irritation and admiration and _lust_ ) Optimus nervously retracting his face mask for the first time in front of Megatron ( _longing_ , a wave of longing so intense, Optimus was nearly swept away in it) all shot through his processor, quick as gunfire and scorching hot.

Optimus curled away from the onslaught, gasping. Megatron followed relentlessly, bombarding him with smoke-red lust, and blue-heavy pining and golden… golden… 

“Stop!” Optimus cried out, unable to take it, and started the command sequence to eject him out. Megatron, instead of retreating, _burrowed_ himself into Optimus’ coding, so deep in that Optimus had to violently stop what he was doing before he locked the other out of his own frame. 

A sob burst from his lips, and he trembled wildly, “How could you do that?” Optimus gasped out weakly, “You could have _died_.” Megatron moved a little further back into his own frame and interlocked their digits, expression so openly trusting, Optimus had to look away.

“You wouldn’t have done it,” Megatron said kindly, kinder than Optimus has ever heard him and it flayed him alive, and the cold leaves for a few seconds in favor of the scorching hot flame that runs through him at the trust Megatron has in him. 

“I could have,” He said anyway, as the heat dies down, along with his tears.

“You wouldn’t,” Megatron said confidently, and thrust his spike in hard before Optimus could reply.

He arched up and enjoyed the frag for a few blissful moments, relishing in the forming dents on his hips. But it's still- _still_ not enough to keep out the memories when his head tips back in a particularly good thrust and his optics catch in the lights of the hab. 

The connection meant Megatron could feel Optimus' fear and immediately delved deep in again and ruthlessly hunted for the source of it. A cold spell juttered through his lines, even as Megatron sent a signal to the house network to dim the lights, and he's suddenly half back under again, stuck back in the memories. 

Optimus glanced away from the red optics glowing in the dark and shuddered. Faintly, he could hear Megatron calling out to him and a servo on his face, but he jerked away, unwilling to make eye contact. 

A sigh, and Megatron turned him around and thrust into his sensitive valve again, drawing out a groan. The heavy calmness that had surrounded him retreated a little as his processor started buzzing again, bright sparks spinning around in his mind. 

Optimus miserably blinked back tears because he had been _so close._ So fucking close to finally being better, and now he'd tripped down the rabbit hole and was falling again. 

A curl of lime-yellow interest moved across the connection and, suddenly wary, Optimus went to check on what Megatron was doing. He made a noise out loud as he followed the purple-magenta to where Megatron was examining a memory thread of the Allspark and at the same time, his spike hit a cluster of nodes.

Horror and pleasure clashed through him simultaneously, clamoring for dominance in his processor, bringing Megatron's attention to him. 

“How did the Allspark feel?” Megatron asked suddenly, and Optimus stiffened up, another cold spell rushing through his lines. He- Megatron had to know why he was asking for this, that he was trying to forget- how could he- how could he be so cruel about it?

“Well?” Megatron demanded, voice blank of emotion, still moving.

Optimus barely could speak for the misery running through him at the callousness of his lover, but managed, “Cold.”

Megatron hummed, and Optimus despaired, already knowing he was unsatisfied, even if the connection had suddenly been blocked on the other side. “What else?”

Optimus hadn’t ever actually told anyone what was beyond, fearing that it was a secret he wasn’t supposed to reveal, and a small part of him howled in joy at finally being able to divulge it to someone- Megatron was Lord Protector now, his logic centres reasoned, it wasn’t just anyone, it wouldn’t matter- but he was still drenched in devastation because he had thought Megatron wasn’t like this anymore, caring more about bigger things than him, more interesting than him, rather than Optimus himself. 

Optimus felt betrayed and the slightest bit terrified because _what if he leaves, what if he leaves_ \- but spoke nevertheless, servos fisting the blankets and cables tightening. “It’s empty, and there are sparks all around, no matter where you look, and it's terrifying and too bright and there’s no warmth, no- no _love_ ,” he realized, “Everything, all those sparks, they zip around so fast, they can’t make connections, there’s no love in there.”

A weight lifted off his chassis as he said it and the relief left him so light-headed, he wondered if he was about to pass out. But no, the cold seeped back in at the memories of that horrible place and he shuddered and grit his jaw and tried not to break down.

And then he yelped as he was roughly turned over in a quick shove, Megatron moving back, then thrusting straight into both valve and ports, the other’s consciousness and emotions running through his coding like fire through his frozen lines. He let out a strangled gasp as Megatron’s spike hit his ceiling node perfectly and thrashed as the mech buried himself back into Optimus. 

“I love you,” Megatron told him fiercely, for the very first time, almost savage with it.

Optimus sobbed as he realized, begging mindlessly, “Stop, no, please- this isn’t what I meant-”

“I love you,” Megatron interrupted, almost snarling, his engine and heater both turning on and blanketing Optimus in heat just as effectively as the steady golden-white thrum of his conscious pulsing- love, that’s what it was, _love_ \- thawing out his lines sharply and painfully, and Optimus sobbed harder. 

Megatron crashed into him in what could barely be called a kiss, and Optimus tried his best to respond through his tears. The silver mech fragged him harder, and Optimus wrapped his legs around his waist, letting out a cracked moan at the change of angle.

The other suddenly stopped kissing him, just when the curl of overload had started gathering and leaned back, opening his chestplates. Optimus let out a gasp of terror and shock at the spark so close to him, blinding bright in the dark room and focused on pushing down memories. Megatron grabbed his chin and tilted it up. “Look at me,” he demanded viciously, “Look at my spark." 

Optimus did and it wasn't as bad as he thought it was going to be, the lone spark in the dark room a huge contrast to the millions trapped behind his optics. 

"Look at my spark and memorize it," Megatron hissed at him, pistoning his hips faster and faster. "Because when we die, we're going to find each other in that huge mess of sparks, we're going to find each other, and I'm _never_ going to let you go."

Optimus _screamed_ , loud, louder than he thinks he'd ever gone, and overloaded hard, bringing the other over the edge with him. 

His processor was wiped blank after he came down from the bliss, and he reached out blindly towards Megatron, grumbling when a cube was tipped against his mouth instead. 

"Drink," Megatron gasped out on top of him, "Then sleep. I'll be back soon."

Optimus gulped it all down and then said hoarsely, "Thank you." 

"It was nothing," Megatron panted, gently unplugging their connection, like he hadn't bared his spark to make Optimus feel better. "You’re back with me now, that’s all that matters. Now go to recharge. I'll yell at you tomorrow."

Optimus laughed and tried. He was still awake when Megatron slipped into berth an hour later, rolling his optics and offering him another cube. Optimus gulped it down eagerly and settled back against the arms wrapping around him, tossing it to the side. Megatron huffed in amusement and leaned down to kiss him. “How do you feel?” He asked quietly against Optimus’ lips. 

Optimus smiled, “Warm.”

A breath of laughter, another kiss, a quiet mind. 

“Idiot,” Megatron muttered between kisses, “You know the energon had a sedative in it right?”

“Hm” Optimus acknowledged, twisting to get a better angle, “You did a terrible job mixing it in. No night terrors?"

"None. I'll finally get a night where I won't have to wake up to you punching me in the face in your sleep."

Optimus was laughing before he'd finished his sentence and turned around to move in closer. Megatron chuckled with him. 

Silence. "Thank you," Optimus whispered. 

"Shut up, you idiot." Megatron grunted, optics closed. "Just don't die again."

"I'll always come back, love," Optimus yawned. "I'll always come back to you."

Megatron hugged him tighter, vents brushing against Optimus' finials, metal creaking, EM field intermingling with his own and washing over them. Warm. 

"I know."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Megatron: Oh you think you're incapable of being loved? Well I'm just going to love you HARDER SO SIT BACK AND TAKE IT


End file.
